


pour all your soul

by rooted



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Universe, Eventual Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Timeskip, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:35:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27572428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rooted/pseuds/rooted
Summary: It takes Akaashi Keiji two months to recalibrate two years of passing and spiking volleyballs, of late night strategies, of early morning warm ups, and six years at arm’s length into something more ardent, more obsessive, more committed. He does not know if it’s too late or too soon.[SFW Chapter 1 // NSFW Chapter 2]
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Konoha Akinori
Comments: 22
Kudos: 76
Collections: Haikyuu NSFW Week 2020, KonohaLoveWeek 2020





	1. when the night begins

**Author's Note:**

> i originally just wanted to write a scene of them dancing to need your love so bad by fleetwood mac, but 9k words later, here we are. written for Konoha Love Week 2020 day 2: mutual pining. [jukebox](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4qwDaSvHXBHB3zy8SMRJju?si=XiIDWdn2ShGBatrirwWB6A)

**October 15, 2018**

**8:38 pm**

**_To: Konoha Akinori_ **

_Good evening, Konoha-san. Sorry to bother you. I was wondering if you could help me with a pharmacy-related inquiry. Do you have any recommendations for supplements to help one stay awake or be more energized in general? Thank you._

**_From: Konoha Akinori_ **

_hey, akaashi_

_vitamin b-12 or magnesium might help you_

_but the ultimate answer is to have enough sleep in the first place_

**_To: Konoha Akinori_ **

_Well, I always have deadlines to meet and not always enough time to both sleep and work. So I suppose supplements might help in that department. Do you have any specific brands to recommend?_

**_From: Konoha Akinori_ **

_hmm, i do have some in mind that i take myself_

_i’ll get them for you since i have my employee discount_

_and i can send them or deliver them in person, whichever is more convenient_

**_To: Konoha Akinori_ **

_Oh, if that’s not too much trouble I would really appreciate it, Konoha-san. Thank you very much. Can you give me your bank account details so I can transfer my payment for the products?_

**_From: Konoha Akinori_ **

_no need_

_you can just pay me back with dinner sometime_

**_To: Konoha Akinori_ **

_I see. Would you be available for dinner tomorrow night then? That way I can pick up the products and pay you back in one go._

**_From: Konoha Akinori_ **

_yeah i’ll be available after 6_

_you can pick the place and send me the details tomorrow_

**_To: Konoha Akinori_ **

_Great. I will do that. Thank you once again. Good night, Konoha-san._

**_From: Konoha Akinori_ **

_no sweat_

_night, akaashi_

Keiji gets up from his table, stretches his arms over his head, and smoothly arches his back. Mondays are always extra tiring; for the whiplash of spending the weekend resting and catching up with life, and coming back to the tedium of wasting the daylight on a desk, under artificial light, haunted by deadlines that could change at a moment’s notice. Nobody likes their job, Keiji knows. He does the job well, Keiji also knows. The knowledge does not lessen the burden, just resigns him to it.

Keiji heads to the kitchen and starts the water on the stove. He takes out a teabag from the drawer, his last one, and puts it inside a worn-out blue mug. The exchanges with Akinori earlier linger. Keiji and Akinori have not been really keeping in touch after the latter graduated, save for the annual _happy birthday_ and _merry Christmas_ and _happy new year_ , and the occasional mini reunions for whenever Bokuto’s or Washio’s matches are aired on tv, and everyone from the Fukurodani volleyball club has free time to spare. Keiji wonders why.

Akinori is solid all around, fun, funny, able to see the cracks in everyone and everything and make up for it, always knows the right things to say and wrap them around good humor, making him well-loved. Akinori was always more stern towards their team captain than Keiji ever was, more pushing rather than indulging, but Akinori holds the former in high regard all the same. Always more relaxed than everyone during their matches, too, but it did not mean he was less serious or less committed to their team. Always so reliable, carrying the team alongside Bokuto and Keiji. Akinori’s sense of responsibility would spill out of proportion sometimes; Keiji recalls the way Akinori blamed himself for missing the last point that resulted in their loss at the finals game at the spring tournament in his third year. 

They were friends outside of volleyball too. Keiji still remembers Akinori’s favorite food (tatsuta chicken), favorite scarf he would wear during Tokyo’s colder months (plain, light brown), and favorite snack that he would eat between practices (strawberry jelly that his mother made). Something he cannot do for the rest of his ex-teammates. Their farness now is a matter of a lack of effort, and not incompatibility, Keiji concludes.

The water reaches its boiling point, and Keiji does not think anymore of it as he drowns himself in work until midnight gives a warm hello.

* * *

Keiji picks a place located halfway from both his office and Akinori’s. Nothing too fancy, nothing too hidden, just a modest, comfortable restaurant to get a full meal and unwind after hours. Keiji tells Akinori to meet him at 6.30, but it’s 6:42 now, and Keiji is in the middle of reading the menu for the third time when he hears the sound of the chair in front of him being dragged.

“Sorry I’m late, got held up at the office.” Akinori takes off his brown coat and folds it as he sits in front of Keiji. He places his work bag on the seat next to him.

Keiji tilts his head up, blinking his eyes at Akinori. “You cut your hair.”

Akinori responds with a smirk, “You like it?”, and runs his fingers through his hair. 

“It suits you.” Keiji offers a quick smile, before sliding the menu towards Akinori. 

In high school, Akinori’s fringe covered most of his forehead, and sometimes his eyes, after the sticky sweat from their practice or the unforgiving summer heat. He kept the same length but slicked it back during college. Now Akinori’s sandy blonde hair is short and fluffy, the cut reveals his face fully. Keiji watches Akinori as the latter unbuttons his cuff and rolls up his sleeves. Keiji does not look away in time when Akinori looks up from the menu, having decided his dinner, and their eyes meet. 

“What?” 

“Ready to order?” Keiji ignores it.

“Sure.”

Keiji places an order of chestnut rice, vegetable miso soup, grilled mackerel, and spinach ohitashi (“You’re a pescatarian now?” “No, I just really like vegetables.”) and Akinori opts for chestnut rice, tonjiru, chicken tatsuta, and spinach gomaae. The waiter leaves after _your meals will be ready in 15-30 minutes, I will come back with your free drinks promptly,_ delivered with a half-tired smile _._ Akinori takes his work bag and searches for something, and pulls out a white and orange bottle with a purple cap. Keiji catches _Magnesium Citrate_ written on it.

“Here. Take one in the morning and one at night after meals.” Akinori slides the bottle in front of Keiji.

“Oh, thank you so much.” Keiji takes the bottle and reads the labels on the packaging. _Nervous System Support. Supports Energy Production. Critical for Enzyme Function. 240 Veg Capsules._

“Do they really do the things they are advertised to do?” Keiji asks, more out of genuine curiosity than reasonable suspicion.

Akinori chuckles. “Your mileage may vary, but it’s a yes, for me. I sleep better and have less fatigue.”

Keiji hums and Akinori continues. “Honestly, I used to not believe these things could work too, but I guess once we get into our 20s, our bodies need help to feel better. No shame in that.”

“Yes. Everyone at my office drinks vitamins and supplements, and that works for them, so I thought I might give it a try as well.”

“Get back to me in a week or so. If you don’t feel any changes I’ll get you a different one.”

“I will.”

“How’s work? Last time we met you were still disappointed about not making it into the department you wanted.”

“Well…” 

Keiji considers for a second before allowing himself to appear vulnerable in front of Akinori, before allowing himself to appear, in an honest, but not pitiful manner, as an adult who does not always succeed in keeping himself together. 

Akinori knows Keiji well enough, has seen him in one of his worst moments, has seen him breaking down, and is familiar with the ugly frustrations you accumulate as a working adult, so Akinori would understand, Keiji supposes. And so Keiji tells Akinori about his work routine, the series he’s been working on, how he still writes what he wants as a hobby, but laments the fact that he hasn’t had an opportunity to develop that skill professionally. Akinori is sure that it will come in the future, that Keiji still has time, and lets Keiji know that he is rooting for him.

When their food arrives, they eat in relative silence, only interrupted by occasional excited recognitions of how delightful the food is. Akinori reads the dessert menu after he finishes his meal. Keiji starts the conversation again.

“What about you, Konoha-san? How’s life?”

Akinori shrugs. “It’s fine. There’s enough people at the company so I’m able to not overwork myself, unlike a certain person in this table…”

“Also because being exhausted at the job in your line of work is dangerous, I believe.”

Akinori grins lazily. “I mean, yes. Other than that, I still play volleyball, as you know. When we last met, I told everyone I took up hiking as a new hobby, well, not anymore, that did not work out. I’m trying out fishing now.”

Keiji raises an eyebrow in reflex, though it should have not come as a surprise from Konoha will-try-anything-once Akinori. Keiji’s mind goes through _What, Why, How, Where_ in less than half a second, before he settles with _Okay._

Keiji’s perplexed reaction invites a soft chuckle out of Akinori, one that ends as quickly as it starts. “It’s fun, I promise. You should come with me sometimes.”

“No, thank you.” Keiji’s responses so quickly that it gets another chuckle from Akinori. This time, done with intention.

“What do you do for fun then, Akaashi?” Akinori leans forward, resting his chin against his hand.

“I usually read during the weekends.” _But mostly I just sleep,_ Keiji doesn’t say.

“Isn’t that just more work, in a way?”

“It contributes to my skill at work, yes, but what I read usually does not have anything to do with my job.”

“Hmm. What else?”

“Watching films, listening to podcasts, and cooking, sometimes. My hobbies are not adventurous or interesting like yours, Konoha-san.” 

Keiji understands that Akinori belongs to the world, and does not keep to himself the way Keiji does. It’s only logical that Keiji thinks anything that mainly requires sitting inside with a good amount of focus would bore Akinori.

“I think you are interesting, Akaashi.” Akinori being earnest without prefacing it with some sass is a scarce occurrence, and it catches Keiji by surprise.

“I doubt you will still think that if you try to do any of those.” 

“Let’s try that then. Show me a film, or let me eat your cooking, and I’ll decide for myself.”

“Go pick one.”

“A film, then. Always been my cultural blindspot.”

Keiji agrees; he has nothing to lose. They decide to meet again on the weekend for a movie night at Keiji’s place. It’s an arrangement that Keiji likes best: doing something laid back and undemanding at home.

They part after a shared dessert of matcha rolls and vanilla ice cream, and a fulfillment of Keiji's promise of a payment in dinner to Akinori. _That was nice,_ Keiji thinks. Akinori doesn’t do awkward, doesn’t do nervous, doesn’t do shy. Even and level, all the time, always; he makes everything easy. This is their first one-on-one hangout in six years, and Akinori makes the work of closing that gap invisible. During his walk home, Keiji can feel himself looking forward to the weekend.

* * *

  
  


“A mother and daughter are haunted by a mysterious evil in 1980s Tehran, during the War of the Cities.” Akinori reads the premise of Keiji’s film pick tonight, _Under the Shadow_. “I didn’t know you were a horror guy.”

“Not exactly, but I figure that if I have company, I might as well watch something that I wouldn’t watch on my own. Blanket?” Keiji offers Akinori a corner of his baby blue blanket.

“Using me as your shield? Mean.” Akinori slides closer to Keiji and under the blanket. “By the way, how’s the supplement working?”

“Well, it’s only been a few days, but I’ve started to feel that I don’t wake up as tired.”

“Good, then.”

“I actually usually spend my Saturdays sleeping and doing nothing, but look at me now, I have the energy to tolerate you for the next two hours.” 

“Wow.”

Once they are both comfortable, Keiji puts the bowl of popcorn between them, propped up by each of their thighs, and starts the film. They reach inside the bowl at the same time, fingers brushing each other.

“You can hold my hand if you’re _so_ scared, Akaashi.”

“You’re not getting any popcorn tonight.” Keiji slaps Akinori’s hand away, takes the bowl and puts it on the empty side of the couch by his side.

“Mean.”

  
  
  
  


“Does that mean the ghost will still follow them?” Akinori turns to Keiji as the credits roll.

“I think so. Unless they return and retrieve the doll and the book.”

“That was so messed up.” Akinori brings his hands to his face.

“Which part scared you the most?” Keiji gets up to turn the lights back on.

“When the mother was on the phone with the father and slowly realized that she was not talking to him, or a person, _at all._ ”

“Hmm. Mine was the figure that disappeared into the ceiling.”

“God, don’t remind me.” Akinori gets up and takes his empty glass to refill it. The salt and butter of the popcorn feels thick inside his throat now.

“You were wrong, by the way.”

“Hm?” Keiji gazes toward Akinori in the kitchen, eyes marking a question.

“This was interesting.”

  
  


* * *

**November 17, 2018**

**6:03 pm**

**_From: Konoha Akinori_ **

what do you want for dinner tonight?

**_To: Konoha Akinori_ **

I had curry for lunch, so anything that is not curry.

**_From: Konoha Akinori_ **

barely helpful

gyudon? 

**_To: Konoha Akinori_ **

Sure, I haven’t had any in a while.

**_From: Konoha Akinori_ **

great, be there around 7

  
  


After three movie nights, Keiji and Akinori have developed a routine of switching roles between the food provider and the film picker, and an unspoken agreement of exclusively watching horror. (Keiji picked the Laotian _Dearest Sister_ for their second, Akinori picked _Aterrados_ —from three options that Keiji offered—for their third one). In between: more dinners on weekdays. Previous weekends were spent visiting the Nippara Limestone Cave, a brunch picnic at Yoyogi Park, at its most beautiful in autumn, and last weekend, they went to the Tori no Ichi festival and ate about twelve variants of food in total. 

Akinori always effortlessly comes up with outings that Keiji is comfortable with, but never thinks of trying; never something too far out of Keiji’s comfort zone that he won’t entertain the idea. Keiji is only ever so thankful for another familiar face to spend time with. Bokuto is hardly ever in Tokyo, Kuroo is always busy travelling around, and almost every attempt to get Kenma out of his house is fruitless. 

After replying to Akinori’s last text, Keiji returns to his weekly video call with the trio, turning on his video again.

“Where did you go, Akaashi?” Bokuto chirps as Keiji’s face appears on the screen.

“Sorry, I was replying to Konoha-san’s texts. He’ll be here in an hour.”

“Okay, are we allowed to ask about you two now or should we just come to our own conclusions?” A grin on Kuroo's face. Next to him, Kenma puts down his console, shifts his focus solely to the screen.

There is no use to deflect from people who are used to seeing through you, so Keiji swiftly goes through the past month in his head. He picks what can be shared, little vignettes that are representative enough of the nature of their relationship, and can capture the essence of Keiji’s feelings about Akinori without requiring him to name them. 

“What I can tell you guys is that...” Keiji considers, again, for a moment, “This does not feel like just a reconnection of distant friends to me, but I do not want to call it anything yet.” Keiji’s words are true, but are not complete and therefore not honest.

“Well, we all know Konoha, so we know you are in good hands.” Bokuto does not push. Kuroo nods along.

“Invite him for dinner at my place sometimes.” Kenma chimes in.

“I will think about it.” Keiji promises.

“We’ll let you go then, Akaashi. See you all at my game next week?!” Bokuto beams across the screen.

“I will see you all there.” Keiji smiles and says his goodbye before hanging up.

Keiji puts away his laptop and takes a look around his apartment. His newly washed, folded baby blue blanket on the couch, two empty mugs, two sets of plates and utensils on the table in front of the couch. Reminders of a new weekend routine that Keiji goes through seamlessly like it was always a built-in reflex. Reminders of how Akinori has permeated his life once again, and has become an integral part of it.

Keiji’s life was already complete before Akinori, that is absolute, but he cannot deny how Akinori adds more warmth to his days, lifts the loneliness that was not difficult, but present, and gives him something—Akinori’s very own presence—to look forward to once he re-entered his life. It’s not heavy, this fondness. Keiji likes it.

  
  


Keiji is in the middle of brewing tea when Akinori knocks on his door. He quickly finishes pouring the hot water, and walks to open the door and welcome his guest. Akinori holds a transparent plastic bag with a few boxes inside it on one hand, and his phone on the other.

“I have come bearing gifts.”

Keiji rolls his eyes with a half-smile and lets him in. “You know where to set them up.” 

“What are we watching today?” Akinori takes off his coat and folds it before he sits on the couch and starts unpacking their dinner on the table.

“ _Dark Water."_

“Is this our first Japanese film?” 

“Yes.” Keiji brings the teapot to the table, and fills the empty mugs.

“Great. I’m starting to forget what it feels like to watch a film without subtitles.”

“Oh... We can just stick to Japanese films only from now on if you want?” Keiji’s voice is colored with concern that Akinori doesn’t miss.

“Obviously a joke, Akaashi. I liked everything you picked so far.” 

“That’s really good to know, Konoha-san.”

“Would you do the honor?” Akinori offers him the tv remote.

Keiji takes it, presses play, and leans back into his couch.

  
  


* * *

The MSBY Jackals vs Schweiden Adlers match was one for the books. The world calls them the Monster Generation, but Akinori will always lovingly remember some of them at their most tender: young boys walking out of the court with their head bowed, doing a lap of diving drills on command, the vanquished look on their faces after they were taken out of the court, relegated to the bench, the top layer of their ambition scratched. They are superstars in their own right, but they are also his former teammate and former rivals; so simple and true it feels unreal. It reminds Akinori of the fig he did not choose, the future he did not want, but could have had. 

Akinori watches MSBY players celebrating their victory, and someone else crosses his mind. 

**November 25, 2018**

**6:03 pm**

**_To: akaashi keiji_ **

having fun in sendai?

tell bokuto that komi, saru, and i said hi

it was a great game

**_From: akaashi keiji_ **

It was a great game indeed. A lot of fun, and Bokuto-san was in his top form.

Sorry for the late reply. I just finished interviewing Bokuto-san with Udai-san. We are having dinner now. Wish you were here.

I wish all of you were here.

**_To: akaashi keiji_ **

[pic_20181125]

wish you were here too

“Who did you send our picture to?” Komi tries to sneak a peek on Akinori’s phone.

Akinori holds his phone away, hiding the screen from Komi’s sight. 

“Akaashi. He’s with Bokuto in Sendai.” 

“Oh? I didn’t know you two are keeping in close contact.” 

“We weren’t, until we are.”

Sarukui brings his glass to his mouth but stops mid-way, like he just realizes something. “What does that mean?”

Akinori turns to them and shrugs. “He asked me for a favor last month and took me to dinner to pay for it, and we have had dinners after work and spent some weekends together since then.“

“Weekends together doing what?”

Akinori rolls his eyes, but the faint blush in his cheeks betrays him. “Just hanging out. We’d have brunch, go to his place, talk, sometimes we watch movies and have dinner together. Sometimes we’d go outside if we’re in the mood for it.”

“Hm. Say, Saru. Can you imagine us doing all those things regularly?”

“A hundred percent no. I don’t like you that much.”

“Rude, but the feeling is mutual.” Komi turns to Akinori. “My point is…”

“Make fun of me and I will throw my drink in your face.” Akinori raises his glass. It is full but his threat is empty.

Komi laughs and Sarukui chuckles. “As much as I want to see that, I think I will agree with whatever Komi is going to say next.”

“See? I was just going to say that what you have there is nice. Good company is hard to find.” 

Akinori blinks once, twice, and puts his glass back on the table. 

“I guess it is nice.”

  
  


* * *

304 kilometers away from Tokyo, Keiji smiles as he reads a new message on his phone. It does not escape Bokuto’s eyes, who is sitting next to Keiji and will catch the slightest shift in his face, not distracted by the mouth-watering smell of beef tongue cooking in front of him. 

“Who are you texting?” 

“Konoha-san.”

Bokuto grins and tilts his head forward, as if waiting for an explanation from Keiji. Akinori tightens his lips and shows Bokuto the picture Akinori sent him. Komi making peace signs with both hands, Sarukui raising his glass, and Akinori grinning, arm stretched out to take the picture. 

“We should send a picture back!” 

Before Keiji can answer, Bokuto has dragged his chair closer to him, eyes wide and excited, waiting for Keiji to open his phone camera and take their picture. Keiji smiles and points his thumb to Bokuto, who is pulling off his signature pose, and clicks the button to capture their moment. _Messages, Konoha Akinori, Photos, One photo selected, Send, Delivered._ He receives a reply a minute later.

**_From: Konoha Akinori_ **

adorable

we’re having dinner too now

[pic_25112018]

**_To: Konoha Akinori_ **

Looks like a lot of fun. Please don’t let me keep you, Konoha-san. I will see you back in Tokyo.

**_From: Konoha Akinori_ **

can’t wait 

**_To: Konoha Akinori_ **

:)

* * *

Tokyo in December is cold, unyielding, the sun too bright and too dry. The chore of braving chilly winds and preparing for the perpetual possibility of rain makes Keiji and Akinori more inclined to meet somewhere they can be warm and relaxed. Most of the time too, they are too burnt out to want to do anything else other than conversing over good food. So their movie nights expand, from small slices of Saturday nights to late Friday nights that stretch into Saturday evenings, where they part after dinner. Akinori usually comes straight from his office. Everything he needs, he can borrow. 

Akinori picks _Noroi_ for their movie tonight, out of the three options that Keiji offers, as always. The food is spread on the table. The tea is hot. Keiji drops down on the couch, grabs a handful of popcorn, and spreads them on his stomach, like its natural function is a plate to literally hold food.

Akinori watches Keiji and laughs. “You’re weird.” 

Keiji turns to Akinori and catches him at the tail of his laughter. Face illuminated by the glowing screen in front of them, an open-mouthed grin, eyes and nose scrunched up, and a satisfied sigh that acts as the last note. It strikes a chord. It stirs something inside. Keiji holds back, and turns away.

“You know that about me.”

“I like that about you.”

Keiji throws popcorn in Akinori’s direction, chuckles, and rests his head on Akinori’s shoulder before he can protest.

* * *

**December 4, 2018**

**11:47 pm**

**_From: Konoha Akinori_ **

any plans tomorrow?

**_To: Konoha Akinori_ **

Just work and home, as usual.

**_From: Konoha Akinori_ **

do i have to remind you that it’s your birthday in 10 minutes?

  
**_To: Konoha Akinori_ **

I am well aware, but tomorrow is a weekday and everyone will be tired from work. 

I would probably invite some friends for dinner this weekend. Would you like to come?

**_From: Konoha Akinori_ **

sure

but on the weekend day that you are free, i’d like to take you out

my birthday gift to you >:)

**_To: Konoha Akinori_ **

I would say I can do Saturday but I’m a little worried about what you have in mind.

  
  


**_From: Konoha Akinori_ **

i’m hurt that you don’t trust me

never mind then

let’s just do something you want to do

**_To: Konoha Akinori_ **

You are easy today, Konoha-san. 

My curiosity beats my concerns this time, so I will take you up on it.

**_From: Konoha Akinori_ **

*you* are easy today. straight up walked into that one

saturday it is, be ready at 10 am 

  
**_To: Konoha Akinori_ **

And you wonder why I don’t trust you.

**_From: Konoha Akinori_ **

haha! 

anyway, happy birthday akaashi

i’ve really been enjoying reconnecting and hanging out with you

hope there’s more of that in the future

**_To: Konoha Akinori_ **

Likewise, Konoha-san. Thank you.

I look forward to seeing what kind of places you’d take me to on Saturday.

**_From: Konoha Akinori_ **

you will love them

**_To: Konoha Akinori_ **

I’m sure I will.

Good night, Konoha-san.

**_From: Konoha Akinori_ **

good night, akaashi

* * *

On Saturday, Keiji wakes up before his alarm does its job. It’s not a sharp, rough waking up. It’s gentle and solid, his senses reactivating at a good pace. He pushes away his blanket, sits up, and turns off his alarm. Muscle memory brings him to the kitchen, the teapot, the water dispenser, the tea container, the worn-out mug, and the strainer. 

Keiji makes some guesses about Akinori’s plans for today as he waits for the water to boil. It’s not going to be a long trip, and it’s not going to involve a beach, a mountain, or anything dirty, he thinks, Akinori did not ask him to bring extra clothes, or to dress nicely either. As much as Keiji loves a good guessing game, he also loves being surprised and being taken care of in the process. His best guess is that Akinori’s plans would be so _normal_ that it catches Keiji off guard, becoming a surprise in and of itself. He leaves it at that. The water is ready. 

Keiji wonders if breakfast is a part of their plan as he makes his tea. Wait 30 seconds after boiling, pour water into the teapot, set up the strainer, wait again, pour to glass. Keiji thinks about what time Akinori woke up today as he enters the bathroom and starts brushing his teeth. He steps into the shower and adjusts the knob as he searches for the perfect temperature, and realizes it’s the warmth he finds next to Akinori, under his blanket. He squeezes his coconut shampoo and thinks of what Akinori uses, and guesses that vanilla must be in it. He rubs and rinses, and wonders how it would feel to run his fingers through Akinori’s hair instead. Next: soap and skin and he thinks of another body. He grabs his towel and tries to not think of anything as he dries himself. As soon as opens his wardrobe and goes through his clothes, though, he imagines how he will look in them next to Akinori.

Keiji thinks about Akinori so much, too much, these days. How ridiculous, how embarrassing. He spins this morning around him. Rearranges his life to make space for him. Again. For good this time, hopefully. It took Keiji two months to see Akinori in a wholly different light; to recalibrate two years of passing and spiking volleyballs, of late night strategies, of early morning warm ups, and six years at arm’s length into something more ardent, more obsessive, more committed. He does not know if it’s too late or too soon. 

It aches, still, how images of Akinori always return to Keiji without asking, without permission, and will still return anyway, despite warnings, despite refusal. They persist, and they mutate. Keiji has learned, by way of Bokuto, to not repress, but just to delay. To sit with these heavy feelings first and let them wait, until there is a reason beyond any doubt, whether to eliminate or to welcome them.

Keiji’s phone lights up. Akinori notifies him of his arrival in five minutes. Keiji grabs his bag and keys. His heart starts pushing against his chest, like demanding freedom, as he shuts the door behind him.

* * *

Akinori slows down and stops his car right in front of a bespectacled man with a red and blue floral button-up, black coat, jeans, and backpack. He unlocks the door and waits for Keiji to get in. They greet each other, and Akinori asks if he has had any breakfast yet.

“I wasn’t sure if breakfast was part of the plan, so I didn’t have any.”

“Figured. There’s a black bento box in the back seat.”

“Have you had any breakfast?” Keiji reaches for the box and settles in his seat. 

“Not yet. I made enough food for both of us.” 

Six egg sandwiches are stacked neatly inside the box. The sight of fluffy egg salad between soft, pillowy bread makes Keiji’s mouth water. 

“Are we going to eat them at our first destination?”

“We can eat them now.”

“How are you going to eat them?”

“I have two hands.” Akinori lets go of the steering wheel and raises both his hands, but promptly puts them back as Keiji’s eyes widened in horror. “Or you can feed me if you’re so scared of my hands not being on the wheel.”

“Okay.”

Akinori was obviously kidding, but the fact that Keiji unthinkingly agrees to it makes him want to search for his face, to see what else is there. He keeps his eyes on the road. Keiji pulls off some tissues to wrap the sandwich in and bring to Konoha.

“Here you go.” Keiji uses his right hand to hold the sandwich and his left hand trails below it, ready to catch the crumbles.

Akinori opens his mouth and takes a bite. The first bite always reminds you of how hungry you are. This first bite too, reminds Akinori of how hungry Keiji might be.

“You should feed yourself too, you know.”

“I only have two hands.” Akinori hears the smile in Keiji’s voice. “I’ll eat after you finish this one.”

“I mean, you can eat that too. I don’t mind sharing, if sharing food doesn’t gross you out.”

“Oh.” Keiji’s voice is a whisper. 

Peripheral vision allows Akinori to catch Keiji staring at the sandwich for a few seconds, then at him, before he takes a bite of the sandwich, and hums in appreciation.

“They’re so good. Did you make this?”

“Always surprised every time I can do something right, huh?” Akinori chuckles. 

“On the contrary, I’m always amused at how many things you are good at, Konoha-san.”

Akinori pretends to check his wing mirror so Keiji doesn’t see his smile.

* * *

“Shinagawa Aquarium?”

“ _Please_ do not tell me you _hate_ aquariums.”

“Oh, no, I think they’re fun. I guess it’s a little sad that these animals don’t get to live in their natural habitat, but I can have a good time here.”

_Of course._

There is a pang in Akinori’s chest after hearing Keiji’s remark, from the gap between what is happening and what Akinori would have preferred. He wants this to be a perfect day, but he takes the wrong first step, and trips up his chances. He needs to do this right, so he tries to lighten up.

“Well, Shinagawa has many rivers that connect to the ocean, so at least they are not so far away from their roots.”

Keiji nods along, and leads their way inside. 

They walk through the underwater glass-walled tunnel first, where they can see majestic sea creatures swimming in the tank in a 180 degree view, along a route of 22 meters. Akinori glances up at a fortunate time, and catches a glimpse of a manta ray swimming overhead. He calls Keiji’s name and the man turns, follows Akinori’s finger with his eyes, and lets out a small gasp in wonder. The walk is slow and soothing, Keiji and Akinori part ways sometimes to read the information on the sides of the tunnels, learning more about the species that catch their interests, and come back to each other again along the way.

They visit the jellyfish exhibit and let themselves be hypnotized by the luminescent creatures bobbing up and down in their tank, with special lighting effects around them. Next is a section called Jewels of the Sea, which reproduces the colorful reefs spread around and under tropical oceans, and the beautiful fishes that inhabit them. Then there’s the penguins, the seahorses, the river creatures, the open tank. They take their time in each area, and leave feeling mesmerized with every brief access to the world beneath them, how so much is still unknown, undiscovered.

Once they feel like they have seen everything they want to see, Akinori proposes another round of walk around the area just to see if they missed anything.

“Have you seen the turtles in the tunnel?”

“Yes, they are _huge_. I wonder if there’s a horror film about turtles, we should watch that.”

Akinori grins. “Already planning for our next hangout while in the middle of one?”

Keiji moves on. “I don’t think we’ve been to the Shark Hall?”

“Oh, you’re right.” Akinori takes a quick look around. “It might be around here.” 

Akinori pulls out the brochure he took from the ticket box and checks the show schedule and his watch.

“Do you want to see the dolphin show? It says here it will start in fifteen minutes.”

“That would make me really sad, I think, so no.”

Akinori lets out a pained sigh and turns to face Keiji. “This was a mistake, wasn’t it? I really thought an aquarium would make anyone happy.”

Before Keiji could rebuke, Akinori takes a step back, eyes transfixed on something behind Keiji.

“Akaashi, why don’t we step aside for a bit?” 

“Hm?” Keiji hears Konoha words, but his reflex dictates him to follow Akinori’s line of vision instead. 

Keiji turns around to see a shark swimming next to him, all sharp teeth and hunger, behind a glass, but still too close for comfort. Keiji yelps, tries to get away as quickly as possible and bumps straight into Akinori. Keiji puts his forehead on Akinori’s shoulder with a harsh exhale as Akinori rubs the sides of his arms, laughing at him while helping him come down from the shock. 

“Found the Shark Hall.” 

“In the worst way possible.” Keiji pouts and softly punches Akinori’s chest to stop him from laughing. “Can we go have lunch?”

Akinori nods and leads the way to the parking lot.

* * *

** _ZAUO - Fishing Restaurant_ **

“Well, isn’t this kind of perverse.” Keiji holds back his laughter as he reads the banner of the restaurant.

There is shame simmering in Akinori’s eyes, behind the awareness how deliciously strange all of this is. 

“I’m really sorry. I really thought this would be funny.”

“Oh, it absolutely is.” Keiji manages to slip the words in between his cackles.

“I’m glad you are entertained, because I’m freaking embarrassed right now.” Akinori walks in front of Keiji, and confirms his reservation with the staff.

"Is this a part of some elaborate plans to get me doing your hobby?”

“Oh, you remember.” Akinori mutters more to himself than to Keiji.

“Of course I do. No one else I know likes fishing.”

The staff gives them a brief explanation of how their system works. You can catch the fish you want to eat or you can just order them off the menu. If you decide to do the fishing, the restaurant provides fishing rod rental and free fishing bait. Once you’ve caught your fish, the staff will come over to retrieve it, which you can choose to have as sashimi, grilled, steamed or deep-fried. Keiji picks sea bream and Akinori wants the flounder. The staff shows them where to obtain the gears, and leads them to the flounder fishing area first.

Akinori predictably has it easy, catching his prize in no time. The restaurant staff makes a spectacle out of it, a round of applause and celebratory taiko drums. Akinori grins throughout the whole thing. After the waiter confirms his menu, they lead both men to the sea bream pool.

Keiji puts the bait on a hook and lowers his rod into the shallow pool below them.

“Am I doing this right?”

“Don’t think too much about it. At this point all you need is patience and luck.”

As soon as Akinori finishes speaking, a fish bites Keiji’s bait, tugging on his rod. Keiji gasps and turns to Akinori, asking for help.

“You have it! You have it!” Akinori wraps one hand around Keiji’s to help him steady the fishing rod and pull it back with the appropriate pressure, as the other hand grabs the net to contain the fish. 

The fish is out of the water now, only a dozen centimeters away from the net in Akinori’s hand. In a split second, the fish makes a leap and jumps back into the pool, splashing water into their faces and shirts.

“You had it!” Akinori is excited, but Keiji is defeated. “It’s okay, let’s try again. Second time’s a charm.”

Keiji puts another bait on his hook, and lowers the rod into the pool again. Within the next minute, another fish takes Keiji’s bait and gets stuck. Akinori instructs Keiji to pull his rod up to properly hook the fish, then lift it up until the fish is out of the water, and wait for a few moments to tire the fish out. Akinori has the net ready once Keiji brings the fish fully out of the water, and the second time’s a charm indeed. Drum beats and a round of applause fill the air once again. 

They take their reserved seats on the boat-shaped section of the restaurant. Not long after, the waiter comes back with everything they ordered.

Keiji looks excited and proud. “I caught this!”

Akinori chuckles, and looks just as proud.

The sashimi and sushi taste sublimely salty and sweet, and their freshness is undeniable. The dish also comes with servings of tamago, radish, inari skin, and ginger slices. The deep-fried octopus is crisp and rich, served with pickles and sliced lemons to boost its taste. The mineral salad is a triumph of texture over taste, a welcome clean, crunchy taste to balance the rest of their meal.

Once all the seafood has been transported into their stomach and washed down with several glasses of green tea, Akinori leaves the table to pay for the bill. Keiji has learned by now that offering to split the bill whenever Akinori is the initiator of the outing is useless.

“How many places are we visiting today?” Keiji asks when Akinori comes back to the table.

“Just one more, but if you’re tired we can go home now.”

“No, I’m good.”

“Great.” Akinori checks his wristwatch. “If we leave now, we can catch the sunset at our next destination.”

Keiji nods and puts on his coat.

  
  


* * *

For the last destination, Akinori and Keiji travel down out of Tokyo and to the bayside city of Yokohama. Akinori takes them to Cosmo World, for their Ferris wheel that dominates the Minato Mirai skyline, standing 112.5 meters high and stretching 100 meters wide. It has a clock in the center of the wheel, visible throughout most of the district. 

Once they are almost in front of the line, Akinori senses Keiji’s hesitation, as he truly grasps the colossal structure of metal and iron in front him, tilting his head so far back. He invents a way out, just in case. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to do this. There’s some other attractions here that we can go to instead.”

Keiji shakes his head, without worry. “No, it’s okay.”

The car is designed to hold eight people, making it spacious for two, so they take seats on opposite sides. The train is sturdily built and encased in thick, transparent glass, allowing Keiji and Akinori to enjoy the beauty of both the city and the water for miles, all at once.

Inside, an interactive touchscreen starts spouting out fun facts about the sights surrounding them as the car moves up. The sun starts going down, hanging low, parallel to their continuing height. Dark orange and purple hues sweep the car, like spilled paint on blue canvas. Strings of lights in neon colors start blinking around the wheel, meeting Keiji’s gunmetal blue eyes and reflected back into Akinori’s olive ones, bringing him to the realization that he has been staring at the younger man unseeingly for too long.

Keiji holds his gaze in silence.

“I’m sorry if you’re not having as much fun as you expected.”

Keiji furrows his brows. “Why wouldn’t I?” He replies delicately.

“Well, the aquarium made you sad, the fishing got you wet, and we might be too early to catch the sunset here.” Akinori turns his eyes away, facing the fading sun.

The lines of Akinori’s face show what Keiji belatedly realizes is pain. Being vulnerable is not alien to Akinori, but it is not all that familiar either. Funny, that. How Akinori is hanging 112.5 meters above the ground, a piece of glass and natural law of gravity away from death, but the only thing that scares him is the man before him, and the words that might come out of his mouth. This small space and that bespectacled man is the size of the whole world for Akinori. How unfortunate.

“I always have fun with you.” Keiji speaks again, sincere and exact. “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me for my birthday. You thought all of these through, and I’m so, so grateful for this.” A pause. “I’m grateful for you, Konoha.”

Akinori knows right then and there that if nothing else would ever happen between them, if somehow this bubble pops within the second they are back to Earth again, he can make peace with it, he can live with it, if he can cling onto those five words and shape them into an altar inside his ribs. 

* * *

Nobody seems to notice when Akinori and Keiji arrive together at Fukurodani’s late Christmas party on the 28th. They brought a chocolate cake and a few bottles of wine that Keiji spent too much time choosing, even though he knew nobody would look at it before pouring it into their tall glasses. Bokuto is in town, rents a rooftop penthouse for the weekend, and invites the volleyball club to have a get-together.

Almost everyone is already there when they arrive and they lose each other almost instantly, each man pulled to different sides by people who have missed them the most. After completing their rounds of catching up, Keiji settles with Bokuto, Kuroo, and Kenma in the lounge (“Neither of you went to Fukurodani,” is what Akinori characterizes as a greeting. “But they’re basically part of the team!” Bokuto says in defense.), while Akinori joins his third-string friends in the dining room. 

The quartet falls into their old dynamics easily, sharing stories about change and comfort and Christmases and jokes about how old they are now, softening jagged edges of their shared memories, and everything else that slipped through their weekly calls while drinking to warm their bodies.

During a conversation about how Bokuto caught Sakusa Kiyoomi and Ushijima Wakatoshi holding hands after the MSBY vs Adlers match last month, (Kuroo is intrigued, and tries to work out the details of a relationship between a touch-averse, determined, thorough person and a stiff, blunt, earnest person. “Actually, it would work perfectly if you think about it.”) Keiji spots Akinori walking towards them with a plate in one hand and a fork in another.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Akinori takes the seat next to Keiji. “What are you guys talking about?” 

Keiji looks at Akinori’s plate and finds a slice of chocolate cake on it.

“Sakusa and Ushijima are together, apparently.” Kenma fills him in.

Akinori squints, and only comes up with, “Yeah, I don’t have time for that.” He turns to Keiji. “Have you tried our cake?”

Keiji shakes his head.

“It’s _so_ good. This is my second piece. Here.” Akinori slices a bite with his fork and brings it to Keiji’s mouth.

When Keiji’s eyes meet Akinori, he can see how surprised Akinori also is by his own instinct. He goes through with it anyway. Keiji opens his mouth, and eats the piece offered to him. A perfect mix of bittersweetness bursts inside his mouth and Keiji nods excitedly, agreeing with Akinori’s assessment of the cake.

Akinori sweeps over everyone else with his eyes. “You guys should try it too before it’s gone.” 

Everyone, though, is aware that they are an afterthought.

“I’m going back there. We’re about to play truth or dare.”

Akinori squeezes Keiji’s knee as he gets up and leaves. Keiji freezes, at the touch, first and foremost, and at how Akinori did it like it’s nothing, how being in the presence of other people does not make him operate on a different set of instincts like he does with Keiji alone. Unlike Keiji, whose desire practically incapacitates himself.

“What the hell was that?” Kenma chimes in first, once Akinori is out of sight.

Bokuto doesn’t say anything, but the question and exclamation marks on his face are almost palpable, and the man practically vibrates with excitement.

“Can’t believe we were trying to solve Bokuto’s teammate’s relationship while you’re hiding yours in plain sight, you sly owl.” 

Keiji pinches the bridges of his nose. “You know Konoha and I have been around each other a lot lately, and we are not in a relationship.”

“Kenma and I have been in a relationship _for years_ but we do not spoon feed each other _in public_.” Kuroo’s carefully placed and purposefully annoying emphasis is, well, annoying.

Keiji can feel the heat spreading on his face. This is the first time his closeness with Akinori exists in somewhere outside Keiji’s apartment, outside Akinori’s car, outside the ramen shop they frequent, outside that giant Ferris wheel in Yokohama. Until a few moments ago, it was a bubble that only existed in Keiji and Akinori’s knowledge. In that closeness, they render one another invisible. Now, fresh eyes can see it for what it really is.

Keiji closes his eyes and sighs torturedly. Three pairs of waiting eyes and raised eyebrows greet him as he opens them again. The red in his cheeks are still there. The alcohol he’s been drinking does not help.

“You know what, you don’t even have to tell us. I think you are already well aware of your feelings for him, so once you figure out what you want, you should tell him what you feel and what you want with him and see where it takes you.”

“I know what I have to do, Kenma. The problem is that it scares me.” 

It is fear, sure, but Keiji is mistaken as to the root of it. It is not of unrequited love, but of a requited one, of what it will unlock in Keiji, of how his feelings would spill and pour and pour into Akinori and what if Akinori’s heart is not a big enough vessel to contain it, even if he wants to? How much can he hold, and how much will fall out of his hands?

This limbo of intimacy is not enough, but at least it is not risky, and Keiji is not haunted by the feeling it might go wrong at any moment because there is _nothing_ in the first place. Keiji’s large, frivolous fondness feels vivid and painful, and the little crumbs of proof of his shared intimacy with Akinori feel distant and unreal.

“Well, your options are to be brave and talk to him, and if he doesn’t return your feelings then that could be the beginning of your healing. If he does, and I’d say there’s a big chance he does, then you will have him the way you want.” Kenma pauses, as if to tell Keiji that this is the choice he wants him to make. To take. “The other one is to let those feelings rot inside you while never knowing what could happen between you two. You just have to choose which possibility scares you less.” Kenma states pragmatically, like love is a game and a well-designed strategy is the way to win it. 

Keiji is receptive, nodding along, any sort of map to help him navigate his feelings is good.

“Konoha will be so good to you either way, Akaashi.” Bokuto takes Keiji’s hand and squeezes it. “Konoha does not put his 120% into everything he does like you do, he only does that to things he really, really, really likes. If he constantly makes extra effort to have you around, I think there’s something to be said about that.”

“Thank you all. It means a lot. I’ll think about it.” Keiji smiles weakly, then slaps his thighs and leans towards his friends. “Okay, enough about me. Let’s talk about something else before I lose my mind over this.”

“Oh, look! The snow has started falling!” Bokuto points to the windows. “I’m going to the balcony!” A declaration as well as an invitation.

Kuroo and Kenma get up, and the latter falls back into the couch almost instantly. All four of them laugh. Kenma has always been a lightweight.

“Want me to carry you?” Kuroo squats in front of Kenma, ready to carry him on his back.

Kenma climbs into Kuroo’s back and puts his arms around Kuroo’s neck, and kisses his cheek as he stands up. Keiji feels warm inside, suddenly realizing all the wholeheartedness surrounding him. The holiday festivities, the reunion, the celebration of their survival of yet another year, the joys built on joys, the nostalgia, the long friendships, the long love. He wonders then, why the one he keeps inside does not feel the same.

“You’re coming, Akaashi?” Bokuto notices that Keiji has been staying still.

“No, thank you. I’m not even warm enough inside. I need to fill my stomach with something.” Keiji leaves for the kitchen as the rest head to the balcony.

Keiji gets up and turns around, facing the kitchen. Akinori is standing there alone, looking at the spread of food on the table, his back to Keiji. Keiji walks towards him, and touches the small of his back to inform him of his presence when he’s close enough. Akinori lights up when Keiji fills his line of vision. 

“Hey. Long time no see.”

“You were sitting next to me not even 20 minutes ago.”

“Yeah, long time.” Akinori focuses on the spread again. “Help me choose what to eat, please.”

“Onigiri?” Keiji takes an onigiri and starts eating it himself. 

Akinori chuckles, but mirrors Keiji anyway. “You caught up with everyone?”

“I think I have.”

“I can’t believe some of us are getting married. _Three_ of us.” 

“Does that include Kuroo and Kenma?”

“ _Five_ of us.”

“Does it count as five when two of those are getting married to each other?” Keiji waves his fingers, pretending he’s doing calculations in the air.

“Why are you trying to give yourself a headache?”

Keiji elbows Akinori’s upper arm lightly.

“What about you?” Akinori continues.

“What about me?”

“Marriage?”

“I don’t know. It seems like something so far away from me.” 

“In what sense?” Akinori asks in between his chewing.

Keiji shrugs. “In every sense.”

“In that it’s so far away in the future or that you don’t think you will ever do it?”

“Those two become the same thing at one point.”

Akinori’s lips curl upwards again. “What I wouldn’t give to get inside that head of yours.”

“You’re not interested in the first snow of the season?” Keiji ignores him. It’s a habit now, for him to ignore Akinori’s fond remarks and stirs the conversation away from it, so he doesn’t have to process Akinori’s words, and consequently, his feelings. 

Akinori shrugs. “It’s not going anywhere.”

“Hmm.”

“You? Why are you here?”

“I’m hungry and cold.”

“And tipsy.” Akinori grins.

“And so are you.” 

They are finished with the onigiri now, and Keiji is in the middle of deciding if he wants another one when he feels Akinori’s hand on his arm.

“Dance with me.”

Keiji has learned, too, to not be surprised by any idea that comes out of Akinori’s mouth. Keiji knows that Akinori would still ask the same thing even if he was not slightly intoxicated, and he would still say yes under that circumstance too. The only thing the alcohol provides is borrowed bravery and heightened honesty. Keiji has no reason to answer in jest, to treat this like a silly little thing. (Keiji was tempted though, for a millisecond, to say, “What? Is this another new hobby you want to practice on me?”)

Akinori stands before him, undisguised and unguarded. Waiting.

“Sure.”

Keiji reaches for the portable speaker on the table, next to the plates of food, and turns the volume up. A slow song has just started playing; like luck is on their side. Akinori takes two steps away from the table and into the center of the kitchen; Keiji follows. Akinori leads, taking Keiji’s left hand into his right, and putting his free hand on Keiji’s waist. Keiji stills for a few seconds, before figuring out that he’s supposed to put his free hand on Akinori’s shoulder.

“Is this right? This feels right.” Keiji feels his insides melting from the realization of how intimate all of this is. The suddenness and the ease in how they almost instinctively fit into each other only sharpen the intensity. And the frankness of this intensity is hard on Keiji. Hard to understand, hard to process, hard to swallow. It torments him. 

“Yeah. There you go.” Akinori starts swaying their bodies to the rhythm of the music.

_Need someone's hand to lead me through the night_

“I don’t know why I thought this would be a good idea. This is very silly.” Akinori closes his eyes and chuckles to himself.

_I need someone's arms to hold and squeeze me tight_

“It’s fine. I’ve never done this. It’s nice.” Keiji means it, and starts relaxing into the rhythm.

_Now when the night begins, I'm at an end_

Akinori looks like an otherworldly denizen out of Keiji’s dream, under this light, under this warmth, Keiji thinks, but he is here, and as real as one can be.

_Because I need your love so bad_

“You don’t always have to be so nice with everything I do.” That smirk again.

_I need some lips to feel next to mine_

“I mean it.”

_I need someone to stand up and tell me when I'm lying_

  
  


Akinori’s face gets redder for a second, but Keiji convinces himself that it’s just his imagination. Or projection.

_And when the lights are low, and it's time to go_

  
  


“Do you have any New Year’s plans, Akaashi?”

_That's when I need your love so bad_

“Not really. Are you going somewhere?”

_So why don't you give it up, and bring it home to me_

“Do you want to come with me to my parents’ house? You already know everyone.”

_Or write it on a piece of paper, baby, so it can be read to me_

Keiji short circuits. _Just say yes now, and think about it later,_ _like you did with this dance,_ he decides.

_Tell me that you love me, and stop driving me mad_

“If that’s not too much trouble, I’d love to.”

_Oh, because I, I need your love so bad_

“You are never a trouble.”

 _Need your soft voice, that talked t_ —

Their swaying stops as the music dies, eyes still locked into each other. 

“I think the speaker ran out of battery.”

The room is perfectly still, but they are about to fall. The buzz from the city below and faint chatter of their friends outside fade away. The warmth where their hands meet feel more acute now that there is nothing to distract them. Neither wants to let go first. They unhurriedly lower their hands, fingers loosely intertwined.

_You just have to choose which possibility scares you less._

Keiji slowly moves his hand that rests on Akinori’s shoulder to his neck, placing his thumb below Akinori’s chin, lifting it up the tiniest bit. Keiji’s eyes follow his thumb. Akinori responds by carefully tightening his wrap around Keiji’s waist, pulling him closer. Akinori’s eyes are glassy, shining with anticipation. With a shaky intake of breath, Keiji gently puts his forehead on Akinori’s, shuts his eyes, and exhales silently. Their noses brush together. Keiji is so close he can feel Akinori’s breath, the heat radiating from his body, the dizzying suspension of a delayed truth. He braces for impact.

“Akaashi!!! Where are you?”

Bokuto’s voice thunders from the other side of the penthouse. Keiji and Akinori jolt away from each other in shock.

“Kitchen!” Keiji answers as he gathers himself in. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands now, doesn’t know what to do with the rush, from the emotions that run high. Akinori does not fare much better.

“There you are.” As soon as Bokuto enters the room, he can tell he is interrupting something. The tension is thick and laden with ardor. Bokuto turns to face Kuroo and Kenma who are following behind him, similarly aware of their awful, awful timing.

“I forgot what I needed from Akaashi.” Bokuto panics.

“You didn’t need anything. Let’s go sit there.”

Kuroo wraps his arm around Bokuto’s shoulders and drags him towards the empty lounge in front of the kitchen, in an attempt to give Keiji and Akinori a moment alone again. A futile one, ultimately, as everyone else who was watching the snowfall has started coming in again for warmth, and for food. The moment is lost. As friends start to crowd the kitchen, the friends they have to thank for bringing them here, at this moment, in the first place, Keiji glances at Akinori, his hands tucked inside his pockets now. Akinori gives him a smile, a patient and understanding one, and there’s the ache in Keiji’s chest again. 

“New Year’s then?”

“Can’t wait.” Keiji smiles back, as gently as he knows how.

* * *

  
  
  



	2. when the lights are low

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keiji pulls Akinori in by the hands and opens for him like pearly gates, as if to say this all belongs to you, nerves and joy and ache and all. They kiss again, and everything but Akinori fades before Keiji. He licks Akinori’s lips as a request to unpart, greets his tongue with his own, and meets his lower lip with a blank stroke of teeth. Keiji drinks him in unhurriedly; Akinori tastes sweeter now that he knows he can ask for seconds. Akinori moves over him, nudging him backwards into bed, colliding skin to skin, and begins the slow show in earnest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we are again, because i am innately wired to write a definite happy ending. dedicated to HQ NSFW week day 4: "Please." (that i used exactly once in this fic). i don't have a playlist for this chapter, but please listen to [Wait for Now](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1iPVvexTouo) for the beginning of this story, i promise it will be worth it.
> 
> if you're only here for the NSFW part, "Keiji starts turning on his heel to walk to the kitchen . . ." is your cue.

At 4 PM on New Year’s Day, the sun above Tokyo is held meekly by winter’s cold arms, evening greets through the dark bruises in the sky. Keiji and Akinori part ways with the Konohas after hatsumode and a long, slow lunch, a delightful treat from the eldest sibling. Akinori hugs everyone one by one, talking about another visit in the near future, less of a promise and more of an assurance of him knowing where home is, where to come back to, while Keiji smiles politely and thanks the family for their invitation, the treats, and the warmth of their home and laughter.

They get inside the car, and an exchange of tired smiles, unspoken _Thank you for coming with me_ and _I’m glad I did, I had fun_ between them _,_ the zips and locks of seatbelts, the tuning of the radio later, they are on the road back to Keiji’s apartment. 

_You are on the best route available. You will reach your destination in 42 minutes._

Keiji rests his elbow on the small space below the window, rests his head on his hand, and think about last night’s barbecue, how Akinori insisted to cook for him, but snarkily refused to do the same for his siblings when asked; about the transient blush in Akinori’s face when he offered Keiji his first name, _to avoid confusion in the house_ , he said, and how Keiji offered him the same, just because; and about the fantastic explosions from every direction in every corner of Tokyo’s saturnine winter sky when the clock struck midnight, and the smaller one happening in the corner of his heart when he felt Akinori’s arm around his waist as he wished him _happy new year,_ never looking away from the fireworks above and around, even as Keiji returned the wish. Keiji made another wish, so private and desperate it was almost a prayer, for a year of Akinori like this, always close and within reach.

Akinori draws Keiji back to Earth for a moment, asking if he is warm enough. Keiji is warm inside from the memory, so he replies, _Perfect, thank you_ and lets the radio pervade the silence once again.

Keiji comes back inside his head, and thinks about sleeping in Akinori’s bed last night while the man himself slept in his older brother’s bed a few feet away. About how he dozed to Akinori’s quiet, rhythmic snoring and awoke to the glad golden from the morning sun illuminating Akinori’s guileless face, still in slumber. How the image made him feel 17 again, on his last day of a summer training camp, opening his eyes when the morning broke to Akinori yawning on the futon next to him. How the years fell away and merged into one potent moment altogether, a consecrated meeting point of past and present. How stepping inside the Konoha residence again after many blurry years reminded him of his first time, for a victory dinner on a yonder spring day. Immersed in a halo of nostalgia and history as he may be, Keiji is no longer 17, and will never be 17 again.

At 23, Keiji cannot unlearn the blissful gleam in Akinori’s eyes and the childlike wonder of his fond sigh after a perfect first bite. He cannot unknow the way the lines in Akinori’s face scrunched up when he senses a jumpscare coming, an attempt to narrow his vision without covering his eyes. He does not know how to not be captured by the sight of Akinori in the driver’s seat, letting Keiji relish in Akinori’s side profile without having the same attention directed back at him.

Unlike at 17, Keiji really sees Akinori now, crystal and undivided, alone and whole, separate from the twist of fate that brought them to each other when Keiji first stepped into Fukurodani’s volleyball court. They arrived at each other again here, six years later, yet another twist of fate, one that was spun from want and intention this time, not mere chance. Unlike at 17, Keiji has a more expansive emotional vocabulary now, but he takes a quick look at Akinori next to him, brings his eyes back to the snow-covered trees outside the window again, and wonders still, why people call it love when it feels like dying.

“Keiji.” Akinori calls, unsure, like he is still trying to fit Keiji’s name into his mouth.

“Yes?” Keiji replies not quickly enough, still gathering himself, afraid that his tone or his voice would give away what he was thinking.

“Can you grab something from the backseat?” Akinori looks at the rearview mirror to locate the aforementioned thing. “The blue box with a bow.”

Keiji takes off his seatbelt to do a full turn and retrieve it from the backseat. It is undoubtedly a gift, as tall as Keiji’s entire arm, with the width being half its length. 

“It’s your birthday gift. I’m sorry that it’s late, but you will understand once you open it.”

Keiji feels pins and needles in his hands. “Can I open it?”

Akinori grins. “Sure, it’s yours.”

Keiji runs his fingers through each side of the gift carefully, trying to make a guess of what it is. He unties the silver bow, and unwraps it without ripping the wrapper, unsticking the tapes with his fingertips. Inside is a matte brown box, and Keiji opens it to find a gold-framed star map, printed in black and silver, marked _Tokyo, December 5, 2018_ in gold fonts above it and _Happy 23rd birthday, Akaashi Keiji_ below the map in a smaller font.

“Is this…”

“Yeah. The map of the stars of Tokyo the night of your birthday, that you somehow agreed to spend with me.” Akinori ends with a hearty chuckle. “Just something to remember it by.” Akinori slows down for the red light, and turns to Keiji.

When olive meets gunmetal blue gaze, Akinori finds Keiji biting his lower lip, keeping it from shaking, his eyes are glassy and red-rimmed. Keiji swallows, and swallows again, he can feel the heat pooling in his eyes, but he does not understand why. He stubbornly holds Akinori’s gaze, as if the invisible lines where their eyes meet could relay feelings, like telepathy for the lovesick.

 _“_ Thank you,” Keiji finally whispers, so low it will be missed if not for the faint movement of his lips.

“Keiji…” Akinori places his free hand on top of Keiji’s thigh, just in the middle of it, no skinship but it stings still, then Akinori caresses him with his thumb, and Keiji burns at the touch.

“This means a lot to me.” Keiji looks away, taking another look at the map, only to return to its giver, locking them into a stare again. “Thank you, Akinori.”

Akinori brings his hand from Keiji’s thigh to his cheek, cupping and rubbing his cherub face. 

“You mean a lot to me.” Akinori smiles, that painfully brilliant smile Keiji hates to love, and he leans into Akinori’s warm palm, closes his eyes, and enjoys the moment for what it is, an offer of comfort and nothing more, nothing less. 

Keiji knows right then and there that if nothing else would ever happen between them, if he could never be more than a warm body with a sense of humor to Akinori, those six words were the closest thing to a love confession that he could have. Keiji knows too, that he would follow Akinori to the ends of all maps, to the corners of all skies, had he asked.

Their moment of tenderness is interrupted by the blaring horn from the car behind them, a brusque request for them to move forward. Akinori takes his hand and eyes off of Keiji, back to the steering wheel and the stick and the road. There is a good minute of silence and composure before words fill the heavy air again.

“Are you okay?” Keiji can hear the concern in Akinori’s voice.

“Yes.” Keiji weighs his word as it comes out of his mouth, but it does not add up. “No. Not _not_ okay. Just...” Keiji weighs another word, doing the calculation in his head. “Overwhelmed.” That sounds about right; rational, but not revealing.

“Can I ask why?” Akinori’s voice only grows softer and softer, Keiji feels. Keiji does not answer. Akinori does not wait. “Can we talk at your place when we get there?” 

The request sends a sharp pang inside Keiji’s rib cage, where his feelings are anchored in his body. That burn in your lungs after you hold your breath underwater for too long, deprived of what gives them life. Keiji admits to himself, defeatedly, in absolute certainty, after the weekend and the little gestures, the little _everything_ , that he is going to fall apart if he has to suppress his feelings for one more night, for they are too commanding and vast and devastating to be contained in his only one heart. 

“Yes, I’d like that too.” Keiji replies resolutely.

They have not talked about the Christmas party, about what almost became a fact, not during the car ride after the party, though they had some moments alone for Keiji was the last person that Akinori dropped off, and not the day after, where they texted for almost the entirety of it, not the following day where they had a phone call, and not during the ride to Akinori’s childhood home. Keiji wants to ask Akinori if it haunts him too, searching for a finality of his torn state between perceiving it as a signal that his feelings are not unrequited, or that Akinori was just entertaining Keiji, or even, maybe, himself—just something to pass the time.

Keiji knows Akinori is not cruel, will never be unkind, but lets himself be tormented by his neurotic suspicion of anything nice anyway. Conflating the worst possible outcome as the only possible outcome. He is acutely aware that affection does not guarantee a commitment, a devotion, or a willingness to follow it with anything more. A desire returned is not a promise made. 

So he does not want to think of it as anything more than what is given at the moment, does not want to expect it to be, breaking his own heart before Akinori does.

42 minutes have passed. Akinori parks the car in his usual spot. He insists on carrying Keiji’s bag because his hands would be full with the framed starmap. _It’s not even heavy, I can carry it with one hand,_ Keiji rolls his eyes, and Akinori ignores him, slinging the bag over his shoulder like it weighs nothing, and starts walking in front of Keiji, and what is Keiji to do but follow.

Once they are inside, Akinori puts the bag under the coat hanger and takes off his coat with more time than necessary, Keiji notices but ignores it. Keiji puts the gift on the table beside his keys, mumbling something about finding a perfect place to hang it later, and takes off his glasses and coat. When he’s finished, Akinori is next to him, standing still, eyes on the ground, both hands tucked inside his pockets.

 _Is he cold?_ Keiji thinks. “I’ll get the tea started.” So he initiates.

Keiji starts turning on his heel to walk to the kitchen when he feels a hand catching his arm, rooting him to where he is. The hand pulls him and he turns around. He has never seen Akinori’s eyes like this, fiery, gentleness and patience long forgotten. There is a sudden magnetic field that pulls his every fiber to the man before him, and the next thing he feels is Akinori’s arms all over his back, his hands on Akinori’s neck, and Akinori’s lips pressing into his. 

The kiss is like everything that is long coming: frantic, raw and rough at the edges. Thirsty lips mirroring each other’s push and pull, echoing harsh breaths into each other, no tongues, just the sucking of bottom lips into hungry teeth. Keiji feels his mouth full to the gums with saliva and skin and light. It feels like a deliverance, a beginning and an end at one fell swoop.

Keiji can feel Akinori’s hastening pulse where his thumb rests on his neck, can feel his breath hitching when he moves a hand to the nape of Akinori’s neck and curls his fingers around it, can feel Akinori’s rootless hands going up and down and around his back, closing the almost nonexistent gap between them with every mash of the skin. Keiji tilts his head for a better angle and clasps his arms behind Akinori’s neck soundly, drawing him in deeper. Akinori’s kisses are seawater, each one leaves him thirstier than before.

Keiji cannot tell who lets go first, but neither of them pulls away, still lingering over each other, eyes half hooded, foreheads touching, cold noses pressing into flushed cheeks, unsteady breaths and warm afterglow and all. Keiji smiles coyly, and runs a hand through Akinori’s sandy blonde, familiarizing himself with its silkiness, finally. Akinori huffs a soft laugh, so soft there’s no trace of its existence when it ends, and kisses Keiji again, and once more.

There is very little holding Keiji down to the ground now, his legs will give out any second. So he peels himself away, takes Akinori’s hand in his, and leads him to the bedroom. Once the door is closed, stripped clothes start making a trail of impatient impulses across the floor. The glitter of streetlamps breaks through the open curtains, casting delicate light on an avalanche of flesh, collapsing into bed, busy worshipping at the altars of each other’s lips.

 _Protection?_ Akinori whispers against Keiji’s lips, hovering above him. A drawer opens and shuts, and Keiji places a string of foiled squares and a red pump bottle on the space between the pillows, next to his head. _One second,_ Keiji whispers when he feels Akinori’s hand nearing his groin, reaching into another drawer and pulls out a thin, soft towel and lifts the lower half of his body to lay it under him. 

Precautions have been taken, the play is ready to start. Keiji fixates on the man before him again, brushing needing lips, and Akinori pushes his knees out from under him. Akinori draws his way down, unladening his tongue along Keiji’s jaw and neck, taking the lobe of Keiji’s ear between his teeth and gently scraping them over it. He starts nibbling the corners of Keiji’s shoulders, pressing kisses all over his chest, the bridge between his stomach and his dick, mapping and marking Keiji’s exposed edges. It is only when Keiji feels Akinori’s warm breath and wet lips on his inner thighs that it hits him, the realness and fevered intensity of it. 

“Wait.” Keiji sits up, and Akinori’s eyes follow him, hands still curled below Keiji’s thighs. Keiji shuts his eyes, as if to stave off the blood rushing to his erection, but still can hear Akinori fixing his position and settling in front of him. He pulls his knees close to his chest and wraps his arms around his folded legs, his threadbare state is suddenly news to him. Akinori slides forward closer to him, and starts rubbing the side of Keiji’s leg. Keiji opens his eyes again.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” Akinori offers.

A rich spread of light falls on Akinori’s face for a fleeting flash as he leans in to kiss Keiji’s knee, and Keiji gets stuck in that moment, examining whether this is the time for honesty, when Akinori is keen and wanting. 

“I’m not only after sex, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Akinori rears back, tries to find the nearest piece of fabric, and looks at Keiji again after he takes a shirt hanging on the edge of the bed. “I don’t want this to be just tonight, I’ll have you know that.”

Call it rose-tinted glasses or reality, but Keiji sees nothing short of faithfulness in Akinori’s face. Akinori turns away, releasing him, and Keiji’s conviction extends to his hand before his lips, dictating it to reach up for Akinori’s cheek, gently returning Akinori to face him again.

“I don’t just want this either. I want you. All of you. All of it. Everything. Everyday.” Keiji unburies, a confession and a plea in equal measures. Cards on the table, with arms held out, giving themselves to the unknown.

Akinori puts his hand over Keiji’s, and his lips curl upward in a charming smile, one that Keiji was always familiar with, but never sure of. “I never intend to give you anything less.”

Keiji pulls Akinori in by the hands and opens for him like pearly gates, as if to say _this all belongs to you, nerves and joy and ache and all_. They kiss again, and everything but Akinori fades before Keiji. He licks Akinori’s lips as a request to unpart, greets his tongue with his own, and meets his lower lip with a blank stroke of teeth. Keiji drinks him in unhurriedly; Akinori tastes sweeter now that he knows he can ask for seconds. Akinori moves over him, nudging him backwards into bed, colliding skin to skin, and begins the slow show in earnest. 

Akinori grabs the bottle between the pillow and slides down again, repeats all the kisses and grazes, just as, if not more, patiently, retraces the trails he left earlier. Keiji watches him pump two, three drops of lube into his fingers, then lean down, pecking and licking Keiji’s inner thighs while waiting for it to warm up. Keiji runs his fingers through Akinori’s hair, delights in the safe thrill, and shivers grow from the bottom of his spine when he feels slick fingers circling his entrance.

Keiji throws his head back into the pillow, biting the inside of his cheeks. An unearthly groan escapes his mouth when Akinori licks a stripe from his base up to his slit, taking all of him inside his mouth as he slides in a finger inside him. Keiji’s hip jolts in initial response, then falls into the same rhythm of Akinori’s finger pumping inside him, of his mouth sliding up and down his erection, feeling the solid teases of his tongue all over.

Keiji is a writhing, panting mess by the time there are two fingers inside him, readying him for what’s to come. Akinori hums lowly in satisfaction of Keiji’s reaction, and Keiji hisses as every wave of the vibration convulses around his length. Akinori’s mouth feels so good around him, warm and soft and hungry. He slightly tightens his grasp on Akinori’s scalp, not a demand, but an approval. 

Another finger slides inside him, and he rolls his hips as he keens at the stretch. Akinori scissors and curls his fingers so precisely, activating Keiji’s bundle of nerves with his touch, all while swirling and pressing his tongue on the slit of his dick, sending Keiji almost bursting at the seams. He feels sick to the bone with want, hungry for another limb to chew. He gives in.

“ _Aki... Enough…_ ”

Akinori makes a noise of acknowledgement, and lets Keiji slide out of his mouth, soaked and angry, aroused to its maximum. Akinori comes up to him, and stifles his heavy breathing with a long, sweet kiss. Akinori takes one foiled square, rips it apart with his mouth, and rolls it on himself. Keiji moves his hand all over Akinori’s build, blunt nails pawing on his stomach, scrambling, desperate. 

This is Keiji's first time seeing Akinori without a stitch, and he feels nauseous with the heat of his view, with how enamored he is. Akinori looks strong above him, and he is flushed too, just as worked up as Keiji, and the olive in his eyes are hardened. Carnal desire looks good on him, Keiji decides.

Akinori comes back down to meet Keiji’s lips again, to ask for permission, as he lines up his length with Keiji’s entrance, putting his weight on his elbow. Keiji settles his hands along Akinori’s shoulder blades, as if to tell him that it is okay, these are fields he is pleased to explore, and has been waiting to. Then the woods are shaken as their lower bones glide for a counterpart, skin touching and flesh pressing where they are ready. 

Akinori is thick inside him, impossibly hard, and moves with all the grace of an athlete still. Keiji melts over the fabric of his sheets as Akinori is engraving himself into his insides, expressions of pleasure convene into a strangled, breathy sound. Keiji’s hands hold onto Akinori’s thighs, asserting some control of the pace of their play. 

Keiji whimpers with every slow tide of the in and out, involuntarily clenches and unclenches around Akinori, propelling Akinori’s hips faster, muffling the noise escaping his mouth into the spot between Keiji’s neck and shoulder. Once Keiji is used to Akinori’s girth, he starts building scar tissue on Akinori’s thighs, requesting a rougher play. 

Akinori pulls himself up and hooks Keiji’s legs on his shoulders, allowing him better access. Keiji’s heart is racing, all lustful and expectant. He brings his hand down, and begins stroking his own shaft, still a little wet from Akinori’s preparation, from precome drooling from his slit. Akinori kisses the side of Keiji’s leg, never forgetting tenderness even in the heat of the moment. He plunges into Keiji again, so deep and exact that Keiji loses all feelings in his knees in an instant. 

“ _J_ _ust like that._ ” Keiji is choking back tears at this point, eyes clouded and mouth open, overwhelmed yet unsatiated. 

Akinori makes a noise of acknowledgement and keeps up the pace, brows furrowed and pupils dilated, groans every time Keiji hitches his hips back against him, like they are two sailors and their hips are captains and these are shores they are washing up against. 

A few minutes of carefully-aimed thrusts later, Keiji’s back starts arching off the bed, head falling backward, toes curling, white-knuckling his sheets, then Akinori pulls out. And Keiji almost screams at the denial of the release, bubbling right beneath his surface. He opens his eyes and pulls himself up by the elbows, struggling to steady his breath, and looks at Akinori in protest. 

The fire in Akinori’s eyes has not dissipated. The warm, distant streetlights allow Keiji a full vision of Akinori, breathing heavy, wiping the beads of sweat off his neck with the back of his hand, slicking his hair back with his fingers, body taut and skin glistening. _Fuck,_ Keiji thanks his stars as something in his stomach purls, something less innocent than butterflies. 

“Roll over.” Akinori finally asks.

Keiji obeys, rolling over and propping himself on his knees and elbows. Akinori kneels closer behind him, his legs caging Keiji’s own. Keiji shivers as streams of kisses trail down his weathered back, along his spine, and barely sharp nails slowly scratching the back of his thighs in teasing. When the warmth of Akinori’s breath caresses his shoulder, Keiji turns his head around, wordlessly asking for a kiss. Akinori kisses him soft and sweet, contrasting the harshness of the pace he set earlier.

Akinori releases him and leans back, and Keiji gasps softly when Akinori’s hands spread him apart, inhales through his teeth when he feels him sliding up and down, pressing without entering, tempting. He was so close, a breath away from the edge of the cliff before Akinori halted the show, but can’t be mad for the prolonging of their first time together. Akinori inserts his thumb into Keiji and Keiji pushes back, unslaked, not after knowing the feeling of being filled with Akinori.

Akinori’s free hand reaches around and takes Keiji’s neglected erection in his hand, Keiji’s back immediately stiffens with tension when Akinori begins stroking him. The steady movements of Akinori’s wrist brings Keiji close to the edge once again, but he does not want to finish without Akinori inside him, so he decides he is not above begging.

“Aki...” Keiji’s knees and voice are trembling with need, burning in the hope that he will be fulfilled. " _Please."_

Keiji takes a sharp intake of breath when the thumb in his entrance disappears, and thinks anticipation alone is enough preparation, only to let out a choked cry when Akinori bottoms out in one sharp thrust. Akinori is thicker and heavier inside him like this, Keiji can barely move, can barely reciprocate the energy.

Akinori brings Keiji up by the stomach, chest moulding to Keiji’s back, hand holding him there. Keiji throws his head back, resting on Akinori’s shoulder. In between the thrusts and the strokes, Keiji feels demanding fingers pressing his lax lips, asking to be let in. Keiji opens his mouth and reflexively licks and sucks on them, surrendering to his craving and nothing else. 

Akinori hums in satisfaction right in Keiji’s ear, then buries his lips in the space between Keiji’s neck and shoulder, licking and sucking on the sweaty skin. Keiji moans, releasing Akinori’s fingers from his mouth. Slicked fingers now aim for hard nipples, alternating between pinching and rubbing.

Keiji can only whimper Akinori’s name from the simultaneous stimulation, the synchronized thrusts, strokes, sucks, and rubs. His breathing turns erratic, broken by ragged gasps.

" _Easy_." Akinori soothes.

Keiji grips Akinori’s hips, knowing ripe bruises will flower there, internally cursing him for telling him that while intensely stimulating four different sensitive points on his body. He trembles along with the steady rhythm of Akinori’s hips, exhaling breath filling out every edge with desirous ease. 

Never having ceased pumping Keiji’s shaft, Akinori focuses on Keiji’s tip now, pressing and circling his slit, and Keiji thrashes his head, sobbing, his back arches with the tension before the merciful release. Akinori is close too, sighing in Keiji’s ear, sounds swimming like champagne sizzling, and it pushes Keiji closer and closer to his edge.

Akinori picks up the pace, just as smooth, only with more power, and Keiji is left gasping for air and finding none. Keiji’s hands are tightening against Akinori’s skin, gripping and trying to find balance, any hold to steady himself. The coil sitting in the pit of his gut grows with each meeting of the flesh, each suffocated breath of pleasure. A couple of thrusts with damning precision later, Keiji writhes and wails as he spills all over Akinori’s hand, into the air and the towel under him. He keeps grinding on Akinori, helping Akinori chase his own high, and Akinori groans into Keiji’s neck as he rides through his climax. 

Once Akinori finishes unloading his spend, he slowly pulls out, and delicately rolls Keiji off to the clean side of the bed. He uses the towel to clean his hand, clean Keiji’s groin, and takes weak, lagging steps to the bathroom, throwing the spent latex into the bin, and washes away the sticky feeling in his hands. 

When Keiji manages to cut through the fog of his post-coital haze and words and air find their way back to him, Akinori is standing next to the bed, in the middle of putting on a shirt, fetching it from somewhere across the floor.

“What are you putting on clothes for?” Keiji grins, _You know we’re not done yet_ left unsaid, but understood.

Akinori rolls his eyes. ”I knew you only wanted me for my body.” He pulls off his shirt again, throws it gingerly onto Keiji’s face, who doesn’t even try to take cover, just laughs affectionately with it.

Akinori gets into the bed again, planting his upper body across Keiji’s, and kisses his nose. Keiji giggles, and Akinori takes it as an encouragement to plant more kisses all over Keiji’s face, making himself chuckle in the process. Once the jest is out of the air, Keiji takes Akinori’s face between his hands, easing them into something more urgent. 

“So.” Keiji looks right into Akinori’s eyes, and is surprised by how easy it is now. “Are we really doing this?"

"I think we just did," Akinori slips his hand under Keiji, half-hugging him, and uses his free hand to make air quotes, " _this_."

Keiji pouts and lets go of Akinori’s face, then tucks one hand behind his head. "I don't mean that. I mean _this,”_ Keiji gestures to the space between them, ”what we talked about earlier." 

"Use your words, Keiji. So much for an editor." Akinori trails his lips upwards from Keiji’s shoulders, leaving light kisses in his wake. 

"I hate you." Keiji mindlessly draws patterns on Akinori’s back, kisses his temple when it comes near.

"Rich coming from someone who was screaming my name not five minutes ago."

Keiji pinches Akinori’s side and twists it, making sure it does not hurt too much, just enough to communicate his annoyance, until Akinori hisses _I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry_ and peels himself away from Keiji, and Keiji lets go. Akinori frowns while rubbing his side, Keiji repeatedly kisses him in apology, and Akinori kisses him back grumpily, whispering _You’re so mean to me_ in between. That’s a thing they do a lot now, kissing. 

Akinori lays on his side and Keiji follows, slithering into Akinori’s arms, close enough to hold, with some distance to be eye to eye. 

"A relationship, Aki. I mean a relationship." Frankness still feels heavy on his tongue, though the honesty eases his heart.

“Yes, I meant what I said.” Akinori gives reassuring rubs on Keiji’s back. “And I'm sorry that we didn't do this earlier. I waited until it did not feel risky to make a move. I waited until I was very, very sure that you were certain about this."

"How did you know I was certain?" Keiji did not think he gave away much of his inner workings before tonight, but he promptly remembers that this is Akinori, and everything is an open book to him. 

And he remembers again that he did, in fact, try to kiss Akinori a few days before, and that pretty much gave away everything there was. 

“Oh.” Keiji catches up with his own words before Akinori has a chance to respond.

"Yeah. Trying to kiss me where everyone we know from high school was in the other room was a pretty telling move, I think." Akinori tries to deadpan, but Keiji sees right through him.

"You're on thin ice." Keiji tells him off without heat.

"Wasn't a joke." Akinori replies, but the grin says otherwise. "But were you? Did you know that this was what you wanted by then?"

"I knew I wanted to be with you when you took me on that rollercoaster of a trip." Keiji traces the lines of Akinori’s face with his adoring fingers, like counting his luck.

"And I knew I would give everything to make you happy when we were sitting in that ferris wheel." Akinori kisses Keiji’s wrist that’s hanging just around his lips.

Keiji smiles gratefully. "You are so good to me."

“Just to clarify, it’s almost been a month since that trip, you know.” Akinori says cheekily. “You’re saying I could have been kissing you this whole time?” 

“You _could_ have been kissing me this whole time.” 

Akinori groans regretfully and Keiji cackles, then continues. “It’s fine, Aki. Time brought us certainty, like you said.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have moved if you didn’t try to kiss me too. I probably would just ask you to hang out every weekend and nothing more until you get sick of me.”

“I can never get sick of you.” Keiji means it, there is no way to get sick of something you can never have enough of.

“You,” Akinori boops Keiji’s nose with his own, inciting a silent chuckle from the latter, “are too good for me.”

“Knowing this now makes me feel like I probably should have been more upset about Bokuto-san’s interruption, despite there being no way that he could have known what was happening on our side of the room.” Keiji contemplates. “We could have gotten here three days ago.”

“What matters is we’re here now, aren’t we? So the question is, how should we make up for the lost time?” There is a glimmer of curiosity in Akinori’s eyes, a challenge, almost.

Keiji tries to move closer only to realize their limbs are already tangles and knots, their bones knock together, and they are breathing the same air. Every inch of skin pressed to warm skin. 

“I might have an idea. Why don’t you kiss me for the rest of the night?” Keiji’s fingertips trace Akinori’s lips, an invitation, offering everything there is to him, all Akinori is willing to take. Heart, body, and soul.

“I have a better offer.” Akinori pulls that smirk again, filling Keiji’s vision without the ache of unknowing this time. Keiji knows what it means now, knows that it’s his to take. “I will kiss you for the rest of my days.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! kudos and comments are highly appreciated. hit me up on [twitter](https://twitter.com/higherbeams)!


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